


kiss me to sleep.

by theadamantdaughter



Series: Drabble Collection [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, drabble challenge, shance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-07-01 14:53:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15776343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theadamantdaughter/pseuds/theadamantdaughter
Summary: 51. “I’m your husband. It’s my job.”





	kiss me to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> me: write something fluffy. me to me: but. angst.  
> i hope you still enjoy it!!
> 
> (they're married, so lance is obvi 18+ antis can shutup)

It’s not the first time Shiro wakes up likes this— with a jolt, with a muffled scream, with a vice grip on the sheets that twist around his legs and threaten to strangle him. It won’t be the last. At least he can say he’s practiced at what comes next. 

Sleep will elude him, so he carefully slips out of bed, stands there for a moment while he catches his breath. There isn’t much that can bring him down from an episode, pull him out of the panic, and Lance is one of those few soothing methods. 

But, Shiro’s husband looks at peace, snuggled up on his stomach with his arms around his pillow, face relaxed with far sweeter dreams. He shouldn’t have to awaken to this: sweaty limbs and taut lips and grey eyes that border on crazed. 

After so many years of dealing with night terrors on his own, Shiro knows how taxing it is. It’s unfair to push it on someone else, no matter how Lance promises to take care of him. 

Shiro searches the floor for his boxers and shirt, finding a deep breath between the echoes of  _monster_ and  _champion_ , and pads into the living room. 

The couch isn’t as inviting as the heartbeat nestled behind Lance’s ribs, but it’ll make do for the rest of the night. He can turn on the TV… or surf the news reports. Maybe, by morning, Shiro will have forgotten the grate of Sendak’s voice.

That’s a silly notion, though; a foolish hope. 

The TV’s too blaring. On mute, it’s too bright. His shirt is too much on his skin. It chafes around his ribs, so Shiro pulls it off, tries to settle back. But the couch bothers him, too—it’s too soft, too suffocating—and he folds over his knees.

_Fighting. Fighting. Stay focused._  There’s too much, too many racing thoughts. Shiro feels his grip on reality start to fade, feels the memories close in, feels the haunting spatter of blood on his face and the thunderous roar of a crowd. And he curses himself for not staying in bed, for not trusting that Lance would  _want_ to be woken up.

Because now he’s alone, boxed in, buried by the d—

“Hey. You okay?”   


The couch dips. Slim, warm arms curl around him. 

Shiro starts, but only for a second. 

Immediately, he’s met with the fresh scent of the sea and the underlying sweetness that comes with it. Immediately, he calms, leans into Lance’s embrace, and lets a pent-up gasp escape. 

“—hey.”   


Lance trials his fingers up Shiro’s spine, settles his hand in Shiro’s hair. “I already know the answer… but, why didn’t you wake me up?”

Shiro almost laughs. He can’t quite get the sound out; he’s shaking. He tucks his face in Lance’s neck. 

“I didn’t want to bother you. You were sleeping.” 

“And you might be, too,” Lance says, “if you’d let me kiss away the bad dreams.” 

Feeling Lance shift against him, Shiro lifts his head. There’s tenderness in Lance’s eyes, evident even in the dark room. They soften further as he plays with Shiro’s hair, follow the path his fingers take down Shiro’s cheekbones and across the scar that cuts over his nose. Stopping at his lips, Lance replaces his fingers with a kiss.

“You can always wake me up,” he says. “I’m your husband. It’s my job.” Lance gives Shiro another peck, then draws him in as he lays down on the couch. “I’d be happier if you did.”   


It’s not the first time Shiro falls back to sleep like this— with a sigh, with a kiss, with his head on Lance’s chest and a slow, steady beat thumping into him. It won’t be the last.


End file.
